


Little Monster

by covarla



Series: Little Monster [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Flashbacks, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Steter Week 2019, The Hale Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-07-26 01:09:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20035363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covarla/pseuds/covarla
Summary: “I hate to bother you with this,” Scott began hesitantly.  Stiles felt his stomach drop.  Those words never meant good things.  “There’s been some murders.”There was the crunch of gravel behind him and Stiles turned.  “Hold that thought one sec,” Stiles said as the redcap he’d been tracking lunged at him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 for Steter Week Day 2 - Badasses in Love

_Hey little monster, I got my eye on you_  
Where are you going, where you running to?  
Hey little monster, you know it's all ok  
I'm gonna love you, no matter what you say 

I got love on my fingers  
Lust on my tongue  
You say you got nothing,  
So come out and get some  
Heartache to Heartache,  
I'm your wolf- I'm your man  
I say run little monster,  
Before you know who I am 

\--”Little Monster” by Royal Blood

Stiles slid forward with his back against the rough brick wall. He cautiously peered around the corner, but the street in front of him was deserted. Stiles scanned the boarded up windows of the vacant buildings around him, but didn’t see any sign that the boards had been disturbed. He started to inch forward, but stopped with a curse when his phone rang. He knew he should have put it on silent. Stiles cast another quick glance around him before pulling out his phone and swiping to answer the call.

“City Morgue,” he greeted. “You kill ‘em, we chill ‘em.”

“Really, Stiles?” came Scott’s incredulous voice. 

“Scotty-boy!” Stiles smiled at the sound of his best friend’s voice. He kept one eye on the street in front of him, but leaned back against the alley wall. “How’s life in Beacon Hills? Haven’t chased off all the bunny rabbits yet?”

Stiles could practically hear Scott roll his eyes. “It was one time, Stiles. One time.” Scott sighed. Stiles had the mental picture of his friend shaking his head. He wished he were back in his hotel and could transfer the call to Skype. It’d been ages since he’d last seen Scott’s face. “I hate to bother you with this,” Scott began hesitantly. Stiles felt his stomach drop. Those words never meant good things. “There’s been some murders.”

There was the crunch of gravel behind him and Stiles turned. “Hold that thought one sec,” Stiles said as the redcap he’d been tracking lunged at him. Stiles rolled with the hit, letting his phone drop as he hit the ground and continuing the motion to launch the murderous little creature off him before it could do more than slobber on him. He and the redcap bounced to their feet at the same time. Stiles pulled the iron knife from the sheath at his back and crouched. When the redcap sprang at him again he was ready. He sliced forward with the blade and put a wave of magic behind the blow. The redcap fell to the ground with his throat slit. Stiles watched cautiously as the creature twitched. He reached out with his magic and felt the life leaving the redcap. He pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped the blade clean before tucking the knife back in its sheath. He let the rag fall onto the twitching corpse. As soon as he felt the redcap die, he used a spark of magic to set the body on fire. Stiles picked up his phone as his magic disposed of the body. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” he asked as he strolled out of the alley. He used a drop of magic to orient himself. Stiles turned left towards where his Jeep was parked.

“Stiles, what was that?” Scott asked cautiously.

Stiles felt his lips quirk. “It _was_ a redcap,” he replied. “Now it’s a pile of ash.”

“Are you still in Mexico?” 

Stiles brushed at a bit of blood on his shirt, but it didn’t seem to be coming out. He used a trickle of magic to pull the blood out and incinerated it as well. “Yup, though I don’t remember the name of this particular shit hole.” He shrugged even though Scott wouldn’t be able to see him. “Contract’s done though, so I can leave as soon as I collect my pay.”

“So you have a bit of free time coming up?” Scott asked hopefully. His friend barrelled on before Stiles could answer. “Think you’d be willing to take on some consulting work?”

Stiles slowed as he reached the Jeep. He leaned against the door, hesitating before climbing in. “I don’t have another job lined up right now,” he answered slowly. “Why?”

“Like I was trying to say before,” Scott said, “there have been some murders. Between your dad, my pack, and the Hale pack, none of us have been able to figure out what’s causing it, but we think it’s supernatural. There have been four separate instances over the past three months. Two or three bodies each time.” 

Stiles rubbed at his eyes and really wished that he hadn’t quit smoking. This was definitely a conversation that would have benefitted from a cigarette… or a bottle of vodka. He could practically see where Scott was going to go with this conversation. “What makes you think they’re connected? Or that there’s something supernatural involved?” he asked. He felt a little bit of hope. “Maybe it’s just your run of the mill crazy serial killer?”

“Your dad wasn’t sure at first,” Scott’s voice said, distorting a bit with the shitty reception. Stiles focused his magic and suddenly the quality was crystal clear. “But all of the bodies had this series of cuts on them - tongue, both earlobes, and genitals. The second set was skinned and the skin from those victims was buried with the third set of bodies. The last two sets have had their hearts ripped out. We’re pretty certain that no human would have had the strength to do that.”

Stiles bit back a curse. “You’re right,” he said grudgingly. “Was the heart left there or did the thing take it?” He went over a list of possibilities in his head. “There are a couple that would eat the heart and a couple that would use it for other things.” He paused for a second. “The first two sets didn’t have the hearts taken?”

Scott made an affirmative noise. He heard a bit of shuffling papers. “The first was a man and two kids. They looked like they’d drowned, but they all had the same cuts and the three weren’t connected at all, which is what made your dad suspicious.” A page turned. “Second was two men, skinned alive. But, like I said, whatever it is didn’t keep the skin cause it was found with the third set, and those were the first ones that had their hearts taken.”

Stiles let his head thud back against the Jeep. “That is weird. I can take a look through my books, check with some of my contacts. I might be able to find something for you.”

There was a long pause. “The Hales thought they smelled the residue of magic at the scene,” Scott added. Stiles bit his lip to keep from swearing under his breath. “Deaton confirmed it, but wasn’t able to determine the source. We could really use you on this one.” Scott’s voice took on a pleading tone. “I can probably even convince Talia to help pay you so you could charge your usual fee.”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Scott,” he said slowly. “It’s been a long time since I left Beacon Hills. I know you and dad miss me, but I don’t think the Hales will appreciate having a strange magic user in their territory, especially if they knew my history. I really doubt they’d agree to pay me for help.”

“Well, I don’t have to tell Talia,” Scott began, but Stiles cut him off.

“No, you most certainly do have to tell Talia,” he bit out. “I helped you write the treaty between your two packs and I most definitely remember the clause in there requiring you to notify each other if a known supernatural entity is coming to town. I most definitely qualify.”

Scott was silent for a long moment. “Maybe I can work around it,” Scott suggested. “Let her know that you, the Sheriff’s son, are coming home for a little bit, but not mention you, the kick-ass magic user.” Stiles had to smile at that description. He hesitated to agree though. Too many things could go wrong. 

“I won't even mention that you know about the supernatural,” Scott promised. “You won't even have to be involved, just be, like, a secret consultant. You don't have to meet the Hales if you don't want to. I mean, I’d like it if you met my pack because we all sort of hang out together and I think you'll like them, but it can be a friend of a friend thing. No magic. No werewolf drama. Normal friend stuff only.”

“I don't know,” Stiles said, though he felt his will crumbling. “I still don't think it's a good idea. I travel around for a reason.”

“I know.” Scott's voice took on an edge of sadness before perking up. “Your dad would be really happy to see you, though. He misses you.”

Stiles winced. Scott didn't play fair. He sighed. “You promise you'll keep me out of it? Promise on your status as my best friend that you won't breathe a word to anyone about my magic or… the other stuff.” Stiles swallowed down an uncomfortable shudder. 

Thankfully Scott didn't seem eager to talk about Stiles's trauma either. “Not a word,” Scott vowed. 

Stiles thought over the prospect for a moment. While it still seemed like a horrible idea and there was plenty that could go wrong, he hadn’t seen his old room in years. He didn’t think he’d slept in the same bed for more than three nights in a row in over a year. Hadn’t seen his dad or Scott in months. He had to admit that it would be nice to go home, just for a while. “It’s safe there?” he asked in a small voice. “It’s stable?”

Scott’s voice was warm as he answered, as if he knew exactly what Stiles was worried about, which considering it was Scott, he probably did. “I promise it’s stable here,” Scott said. “I know it was kind of crazy here for awhile after I got bit, but the Hales and my pack work together really well now and the territory is safe. These murders are the weirdest thing that has happened in years. Between the two packs, our treaties with the surrounding packs and whatnot, and your dad being Sheriff, Beacon Hills is probably the safest place you could be. I promise.”

It was a really tempting picture. Stiles leaned back against the Jeep. He was tired in a way that the constant thrum of magic running through his veins could never fix. The idea of going back to Beacon Hills, going home, sounded really appealing. He hadn’t had a home in so long. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to be normal anymore. “What would I even do in Beacon Hills?” His voice came out more tired than he wanted it to. 

“I’m sure Deaton would love your help with his Druidy stuff,” Scott suggested. “You could come hang out at the clinic with us. Or, you could help your dad at the station. You know he’d love to have you.” Scott paused for a minute as he thought. “Or there’s the witch I told you about who runs the bookstore and the magic shop downtown. She’s been complaining about not having anyone to help her with all her work and she’s really reliable. I bet if you asked her, she’d keep your secret. Or you could just work in the bookshop. They’re hiring too.”

Stiles snorted. He waved a hand at the deserted streets around him. “Trade in the glorious life of hunting down redcaps in Mexican slums for working in a bookstore?” He snorted. “And what exactly would I list on my resume? Able to levitate objects, control the elements, and figure out exactly which popular new book with a blue cover the customer is looking for?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll be an excellent fit.”

Scott chuckled. “You can figure it out when you get here. Besides, it’s not like you actually spend any money on yourself. I bet you have enough in savings that you don’t actually need to work for a couple years. And you know your dad isn’t going to ask you for rent. He’d love to have you at the house.”

“Okay, okay.” Stiles smiled at the cheer that Scott let out. “It’ll be a week or so before I get there and I’m going to be in and out of cell coverage for a while. Even my magic can only do so much. I’ll look into your creature and see if I can come up with a plausible cover story to keep me out of your supernatural drama. Can you let my dad know and I’ll call one of you with an update when I get a bit closer?”

“Of course!” Scott agreed. Stiles could practically picture him bouncing around the room. “He’s going to be so excited. And I can’t wait for you to meet the pack! Kira is going to love you!” Scott let out a muffled yelp and then there was a thud, which meant that he’d probably tripped over something in his excitement. Probably his shoes. Scott never put his shoes away. “Dude, I promise nothing will go wrong,” Scott continued a moment later. “We’ll get the creature of the week taken care of and then you can relax and rest for awhile. You’re going to love everyone and it’s going to be awesome.”

Stiles smiled. “If you say so, buddy.” He reached for the door handle and slid into the driver’s side of the Jeep. “I should get on the road if I’m going to get back to my hotel before dark. I should be able to pack tonight, then collect the bounty in the morning. If everything goes smoothly, I’ll be able to get on the road by tomorrow night.” He chuckled at Scott’s babbled reassurances. “Tell my dad I said hi. I’ll see you both soon.” Stiles waited for Scott to finish his excited rambling goodbye before ending the call. He slid the phone back in his pocket and let his head fall to rest on the steering wheel. 

“I really hope this isn’t a huge mistake,” he said to no one in particular.

He let himself wallow for a long minute before straightening up and starting the Jeep. Stiles touched a finger to the rune carved into the driver's side door. A tiny pulse of magic activated the wards that prevented the Jeep from being tracked and shielded him from any supernatural creatures in the area. The Jeep rumbled to life silently. Stiles turned the car west and started out of the abandoned town.

It took him an hour and a half to reach the little motel he was staying in, not because there wasn't a closer one, but because he hadn't wanted to risk bringing his work home with him. He’d made that mistake once with a flock of harpies and barely managed to live to tell the tale. That motel hadn’t been habitable after. 

Stiles pulled out his phone again as soon as he was safely in his motel room. The line rang twice. “Hola,” a female voice came through the line.

“Hey, Rosa,” Stiles greeted as he set his bag in a corner and slumped down onto the bed. “The job’s finished. I'll be swinging by tomorrow to collect my pay on the way out of town.”

“Araya will be glad to hear it,” Rosa replied. There was a hint of relief in her voice. “You're sure you got all of them?”

Stiles snorted. “You're welcome to send someone out to the area to check, but I didn't sense any more of the buggers nearby. I got nine, which should be the whole lot of them. They don't tend to stay together if there's more than ten. Too bloodthirsty and not prone to sharing.” He shrugged and stretched out on the bed. “I’d like to get on the road, so tell me now if you won’t be able to have the money ready.”

“It’s no problem. You don't have to rush off though. I'm sure I can find more work for you in the area. The Calaveras would offer you a place among them.”

Stiles tried to repress a shudder. “No, thank you. I don't like working that closely with Hunters.”

Rosa hummed thoughtfully before seeming to dismiss the idea. “Suit yourself,” she replied. “I certainly am not going to argue about keeping my cut as your intermediary. Being a Shaman is not as lucrative as I would like these days.”

“Don't I know it,” Stiles said with a chuckle. “Why do you think I do so much bounty hunting? Though, I still say you’d benefit by letting me hook you up online. There's a growing market for talismans on the online market.”

Rosa’s laugh vibrated down the line. “Not a chance, mijo.”

Stiles felt a smile cross his lips. “Suit yourself.” He pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time. It was a little after five. If he went to sleep early, he could start driving to the city and be there when Rosa opened her shop in the morning. “I’ll see you around nine?”

“No problem. Drive safely, Stiles.”

Stiles ended the call and set his phone to the side. He let his eyes drift closed and contemplated just going right to sleep. It wasn't often that he had the luxury of going to sleep early. He pushed himself up off the bed before he could give in to the siren call of sleep. He had packing to do. 

One of Stiles’s most prized possessions was what he referred to as his Tardis bag. On the outside, it was an unassuming faded green duffel bag that, honestly, looked like it had seen better days. The inside, however, could literally fit anything that could be shoved through the opening. Stiles had worked out the spell and sewn the runes into the lining of the bag himself. He even worked out how to retrieve items so that whatever he was looking for just sort of appeared in his hand. It was like his own pocket dimension and no matter how much he stuffed in the bag it never got any heavier. It also made it easy for him to make a quick getaway when all he had to worry about was grabbing one bag. 

His bag made it quite easy to go through the room and pack. First he packed away his small chest of spell components. Then in went the various books that had been stacked on and around the motel’s desk. He gathered up the various articles of clothing around the floor, shoving each one in. When he got to his dad’s house he probably had a small mountain of laundry to do, but for now it was easier just to shove stuff in and deal with it later. The various weapons he had stashed around his room got tossed in one by one. He left out only what he would need for the night and the next morning. When he was done, the room looked strangely empty compared to his previous mess.

Stiles let out a long breath as he contemplated the room. He double checked that the door was locked and bolted and that the blinds and curtains were drawn. His fingers brushed the wall to make sure his wards were in place. Only then did he start divesting himself of weapons and getting ready to shower and then sleep. The knife at the small of his back went under his pillow while the one at his ankle was set on the desk. The one he kept up his sleeve came with him into the bathroom to be set on the small counter around the sink while he showered. Stiles stripped and tossed his dirty clothes into his bag. He brought the worn t-shirt and sweatpants he slept in into the bathroom with him and locked the door behind him. 

After the shower, he flopped down on the bed. A flick of his hands turned off the lights. He rolled over onto his side and shot a quick text to his dad, letting him know that he’d be coming and would call when he could. Then, he pulled the blankets up over himself and sank down into what he hoped would be nightmare free slumber.

******* 

Peter watched as McCall checked his phone for the eighth time in fifteen minutes. For a True Alpha, the boy really should be better able to prioritize, especially considering anyone he would normally be texting was already in the room. “Is there somewhere more important you need to be?” Peter asked in a drawl. McCall startled and Peter felt his lips twitch with amusement, though he quickly schooled his features before it could show. The boy looked up at Peter with wide eyes and then around the room at everyone now staring at him. “It’s not like we don’t have some murdering psychopath loose,” Peter continued. “One that somehow manages to obscure it’s scent trail.”

McCall at least had the good grace to blush. Oddly though, he looked over at the Sheriff before turning back to speak. “There’s a friend of mine coming back into town,” he said slowly. “He studied mythology in college. He happens to collect really old books, and he mentioned one that I think might have some information about what’s happening. It apparently has a lot of old rituals in it.” He swallowed nervously, glanced at the Sheriff again and then around the room. Scott’s gaze settled on his own pack for a minute before flicking over to Cora. “You might remember him. He went to school with us. Noah’s son, Stiles?”

The rest of the McCall pack looked surprised. Jackson snorted with a look of disdain. “That loser that was always following you around?” he said with a sneer. Lydia elbowed him and gave him a pointed glare. The Sheriff gave Jackson a distinctly unimpressed look. McCall’s eyes flashed red and Jackson briefly tilted his neck in submission.

“I didn’t realize Stiles knew about the supernatural,” Lydia said carefully. “But if you think he can help, you may as well bring him here.”

“No!” McCall shouted. He looked over at Noah for help. Peter raised an eyebrow at that. The way Scott’s heart rate spiked had him curious. 

“Stiles is being brought in as a non-supernatural consultant only,” the Sheriff said slowly. “Scott and I talked about it and we don't want him involved.” Noah levelled a pointed look around the room. “No one is to mention Hunters, werewolves, banshees, kitsune, Druids, or anything of the sort in anything other than a hypothetical or mythological context.” Noah looked at Talia for her support.

Talia seemed to consider this for a moment. “That seems reasonable.” She looked around at the gathered members of the pack. Her gaze lingered on Peter. He was curious about the boy, but if Stiles didn't know about the supernatural already, Peter wasn't going to risk his pack’s safety by bringing it up. 

Peter nodded. “I would like to see this book,” he said slowly, “but I can be discreet about my interest.”

“I’d like to see it too,” Lydia said.

Scott nodded. “I can borrow it from him and bring it over.” His phone beeped. Scott typed out a reply, then looked back up. “Stiles is about a half hour out,” he announced. “He just stopped for gas.” Scott looked over at Noah.

Noah sighed and stood up. “I feel like we're just going around in circles right now and I can't really contribute anything until the next body drops.” He reached out and patted Scott on the shoulder. “I’ll go make sure Stiles gets settled. Let me know how you want to handle Stiles and the packs.”

Scott nodded. “He said he’d stop by mom’s tonight to meet Kira. Maybe I can talk him into a welcome back get together later this week.” 

Noah looked at his watch and then back up. “Stiles forbid me from throwing a party, but you might be able to talk him into it if you promise to keep it small.” Noah shrugged as he fished his keys out of his pocket. “Just let me know,” he called as he hurried out the door.

“You’re welcome to bring him over to the loft,” Derek offered.

Scott grimaced. “Probably not a good idea,” he said hesitantly. Peter raised an eyebrow at that. His nephew’s loft was a little sparse, but they’d had plenty of combined pack parties there. “Stiles isn't good with warehouses,” Scott said eventually.

Jackson snorted. “What the fuck does that mean, McCall? Stilinski is afraid of warehouses now? That's even more pathetic than I remembered.”

Scott's roar caught everyone by surprise. His eyes glowed red and he’d half-shifted. Only Kira’s quick reflexes kept Scott from launching over the table at Jackson. She must have been forcing calm down her soulbond with Scott, because he actually did relax. “Do not say that ever again,” Scott ordered in his Alpha voice. Talia stepped forward cautiously, but Scott shook his head. He took a deep breath. Scott rolled his shoulders as his features blended back to human.

Once he had himself under control again, Scott looked around the room. “Stiles had some… bad experiences after he left Beacon Hills,” Scott said carefully. 

Peter raised an eyebrow. The weight behind Scott’s words was ominous. The smell of curiosity peaked in the room. He opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but Scott held up a hand.

“It was years ago, and Stiles has recovered, but he doesn’t like to talk about it and there are some things that make him… uncomfortable still.” Scott ran a hand through his hair. “He specifically asked me not to tell anyone about it, and I know his father has made the same promise, so don’t bother asking.” He shot sharp glances at Lydia and Peter. “And please don’t try to cyber-stalk him. Technically even telling you there is something to avoid is more than I’m probably supposed to say.” Kira draped herself along Scott’s back and that seemed to calm some of the boy’s anxiety. He was back to his Alpha voice when he spoke again.

“You will all be polite and courteous to Stiles,” Scott said, addressing his pack, but seeming to focus particularly on Jackson. “Don’t startle him. Don't corner him. If he doesn't want to talk about his past or any other topic, don't push it. Don't press him for information. He’s been through enough.” Scott paused for a second. He took a deep breath and the tension in his shoulders relaxed. Peter caught a whiff of grief and sadness from Scott and wasn't that interesting. “His dad doesn't say anything, but I can tell he really misses Stiles being around. Stiles hasn't been back to Beacon Hills in four years. It's really important to both of us that he feels safe here.”

Peter watched the others slowly nod. The meeting broke up shortly after that, which was probably for the best. They really weren't getting anywhere and Scott had thoroughly derailed the meeting. Peter let himself fade into the background as conversation turned from their murderer to party planning. He shot Talia a meaningful look as he slipped out of the house. He had some circumspect research to do on the Sheriff's son.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles felt his shoulders tense as he passed the sign marking the Beacon Hills town limits. For a minute he fantasized about just turning the Jeep back around and heading somewhere else, maybe north to Washington and then further up into Canada. Then he caught sight of the patrol car stationed almost out of sight near the sign and he knew that his dad would know that he’d arrived. Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if the deputy was on the radio now, alerting the Sheriff. Assuming Scott hadn't already told him. Stiles sighed and continued on his course. 

A few minutes later the first of the buildings appeared. As he got further into town, he spotted old familiar sights, like the high school and the park he used to play in with his mom. Downtown was mostly the same, though some new stores had popped up. He saw the magic and book shop that Scott had mentioned and made a note of its location. Even if he didn’t try for a job there, it was still worth checking out. He turned into a more residential section of town and suddenly his father's house was in sight. 

The house looked the same as it had the last time he’d seen it. The cruiser was out front, meaning that his dad knew he was almost there and was waiting for him. Stiles pulled his Jeep into the driveway. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, just breathing. He had to force himself to pull his hands off the steering wheel, to take his foot off the brake. By the time he had grabbed his duffel bag from the back, his father had appeared in the doorway.

Stiles couldn't help smiling when he saw the man. Noah didn't look much different from when Stiles had last seen him, six months ago in Seattle. "New haircut?" he asked as he climbed the porch steps.

Noah shrugged. "Melissa suggested it."

"Ahhh." Stiles grinned at the slight blush on his father's face. "Have you asked her out yet?"

"We're just friends," Noah said, exasperated, "now get over here and give me a hug." 

Stiles threw his arms wide, stepping into his dad's arms and letting his father pull him into a tight hug. He closed his eyes. Stiles sank into the hug. It had been way too long since he had been around anyone he was close enough with to hug. And, really, his dad's hugs were the best. "Missed you," he mumbled into his dad's shoulder. 

"Missed you too, kiddo." Noah reluctantly let go so that Stiles could enter the house. "How long do you think you can stay?"

Stiles shrugged. He pulled the door shut after himself, but lingered nearby. Stiles placed a palm on the door frame. He closed his eyes as he pushed his magic into the walls. It took a few minutes for him to build the necessary layers of wards around the house and a second set around the yard. Stiles felt a bit safer, more relaxed when he opened his eyes. 

When he turned, Noah was watching him with a look of concern. "Wards" was all he needed to say before his father nodded. He followed his father further into the house. The furniture hadn't changed in over a decade, but there were still subtle changes. Stiles lingered on the stairs to study the new pictures that had been added. He smiled at one with Scott and Melissa. 

"I kept your room mostly the same," Noah said when Stiles finally joined him upstairs. He followed his father and looked around. "I… uh… I donated a bunch of your old clothing," his father continued. "The stuff that you'd grown out of, anyways. Thought you might want a bit of room in your dresser." Noah patted the dresser before waving to the other new additions. "I thought you might like more room for your books and stuff," he said when Stiles wandered over to look at the new, empty bookshelf against one wall. He knelt down to examine the new chest at the foot of the best. He rapped a knuckle against it and felt solid wood.

Stiles smiled as he looked back up at his father. "This is great, dad. Thank you."

Noah smiled back at him with something like hope in his eyes. "Let me know if you need anything else. I wasn't sure if you had outgrown the bed or not, but we can upgrade you to a queen if it's not big enough."

"It's perfect." Stiles forced out a laugh to try and cover his guilt. He hated that his father was trying so hard to get him to stay, when Stiles couldn't actually promise that he would stay. "It's certainly better than some of the shitty motel beds, or sleeping in the jeep." He set his duffel bag down on the bed and began pulling out his laptop to get that set up. "It'll be nice to relax for a while."

Noah lit up. "So, you think you can stay for awhile?"

Stiles bit his lip as he considered his answer. "I'm going to try," he conceded. "I can't promise I won't get called away and I am not going to put you in danger if…" Stiles shuddered. "If my past catches up with me."

"I understand, son." Noah was suddenly there, pulling Stiles into another hug. "I don't want you to have to worry, but I would love for you to stay. And if you do have to go, you can always come back. There will always be a room for you here."

He buried his face in his father's shoulder and fought back the urge to cry. "Thanks dad," he managed to choke out eventually. 

Stiles pulled away from the hug and wiped at his eyes. He turned back to his duffel bag and started to pull out dirty clothing, which he tossed in a pile on the floor. "I am going to do so much laundry tomorrow."

Noah chuckled. “Whenever you want, kiddo.” He leaned against the doorway and watched as Stiles continued to pull more and more things out of the duffel bag. The pile on the floor grew as did a stack of books that went on his new bookshelf. His magic supplies went into the wooden chest his dad had gotten him, which he was going to have to remember to carve wards into sometime soon. “You weren’t kidding about the laundry, huh?” 

He paused with his arm halfway in the bag before pulling out yet another handful of dirty clothing. He grinned sheepishly as he let it drop onto the pile that was nearly at knee height by now. “Haven’t stayed at a place with a washer and dryer in a while and it’s been a month or so since I bothered to stop at a laundromat.” Stiles nudged the pile with one foot. “Some of that is probably going to get thrown out.” He picked up a particularly blood stained shirt, which also had a slash in it. “Well, burned,” he said even as his magic reduced the shirt to ash. He tipped his hand over the garbage can, wiping his hands together to clear out the ash. “Can’t really throw out clothes with blood on them. No idea if it’s mine or something else’s but better to be safe than sorry.” Stiles shrugged.

“How about we do any further burning outside or in the bathtub or something,” Noah said with a raised eyebrow. “I’d rather not respond to a fire at my own house.” 

Stiles snorted and shook his head. “I haven’t accidentally set anything on fire in months.” He wiped his ash covered hand on his pants and started to root through the pile for something clean enough that he could wear it tonight. “And it really was that Druid’s fault for startling me, anyways.” He grinned triumphantly as he managed to find a small section of clean clothes amid all of the dirty. He pulled them out and tossed them randomly in one of the dresser drawers.

“What time are we supposed to meet up with Scott?” Noah asked, glancing at his watch. 

“Uh…” Stiles pulled out his phone and checked his messages from Scott. “Five thirty.” He glanced at the time. He had two more hours until he had to be there. Stiles tucked his phone away and reached into his bag again.

“Alright,” Noah waved a hand around the room. “I’ll let you get settled in, but holler if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Stiles called absently. He considered the arrangement of books on his bookshelf. For a minute he wondered if he should hide his books on magic and supernatural creatures, but when would anyone actually be in his room to see them? It wasn’t as if he was going to be inviting dates up to his room in his father’s house. It also wasn’t as if he was going to go on any dates. At most he might scope out the clubs in town and go for some quick, meaningless sex. 

It felt like the time passed quickly as he sorted his accumulated belongings into place around the room. The laundry pile got shoved to one corner until he could start sorting out what was going to be washed and what burned. His books he just tried to loosely arrange on the shelves. He knew he was going to be sorting and resorting them later until he came up with a good system. He wasn’t actually used to having them all organized on a bookshelf. Usually he just pulled them out of his bag as he needed them and they ended up in a pile on whatever desk or table or other flat surface he had in his current accommodations. 

All too soon his father was reminding him to get changed and then hurrying him out the door. His father insisted on driving, which was also weird after several years of driving himself around. He couldn’t help the little thrill of excitement he got when he saw the McCall house in the distance. Stiles was practically bouncing with each step as he followed his father up the walkway and into the house.

“Stiles!” He only had a moment to brace himself before Scott collided with him. Scott wrapped him into a hug so tight it made his bones creak. “I’ve missed you.” Stiles patted Scott’s back as best he could with the werewolf still wrapped around him. He politely ignored the way Scott sniffled when they drew back, just like Scott didn’t seem to notice when Stiles hastily wiped at his own eyes.

“It’s been too long, bro,” Stiles said with a small smile.

Before he had a chance to say more, Melisa was there. She pulled him into a hug that was much more gentle than Scott’s, but still warm and welcoming. “It’s been so long since I last saw you.” Melissa held him out at arms’ length as she looked him over. “You’ve lost weight again.” She tsked at him before herding him into the dining room. “Dinner’s almost ready. Scott, help me bring the dishes to the table.” With that Melissa was off into the kitchen. Scott shot him an amused look before following after his mother.

Stiles turned to the other occupant of the room. “Hi,” he said, holding out his hand with a small smile. “I’m Stiles. Scott’s told me so much about you.”

Kira blushed sweetly. She nodded at Noah as his father dropped into an open seat at the table. “Sheriff,” she greeted before turning back to Stiles. “Scott and your dad have told me a lot about you as well. I’m glad to finally be able to meet you.” 

Stiles grinned as he took a seat next to his father. “That’s right, you work with dad at the station, don’t you?” He continued when Kira nodded. “It never hurts to have more spies to keep an eye on my father’s eating habits. We can discuss rates later.”

Noah groaned. “I still don’t know how you manage to find out every time I have a burger when you’re not even in the country,” he complained. “A burger or two is not going to kill me, Stiles.”

“No, but a salad definitely won’t.” He was interrupted from continuing their long standing argument by the appearance of Scott with a serving dish in each hand. “Ooo, fried plantains. And enchiladas.” He looked up as Melissa entered with even more dishes. “And homemade guacamole. You really did miss me, didn’t you?”

Melissa ruffled his hair. “Think of it as incentive to stick around this time,” Melissa said with a hint of teasing in her voice. “Can’t get food like this while off on the road?”

Stiles chuckled. “I was literally just in Mexico, like a day ago,” he pointed out. But then he shook his head and gave Melissa a fond smile. “It’s not the same as yours though.” 

“Damn right,” Melissa said as she set down the last of the dishes. “Now, tell me all about the places you visited since we last talked.”

It took a bit of creative editing, but he managed to tell them about the places while traveling all around Mexico and bouncing between his contacts in the supernatural and magic communities without actually mentioning any of the supernatural creatures, packs, Hunters, or magic users that he’d encountered. Mostly he stuck with landmarks and food as those seemed to be the safest topics. 

By the time dinner was over, it seemed like the others were willing to let Stiles take a break from talking. As they lingered over coffee and flan, he was able to hear more about what Kira had been working on at the station and Melissa’s stories from the hospital. He couldn’t help relaxing at how normal it all was. He supposed Scott had been right about their most recent murders being the exception rather than the rule. Neither Kira nor Melissa even mentioned them.

“Oh,” Stiles diverted on his way into the living room to pick up his messenger bag. He fished around inside for a second before holding out a worn book to Scott. “Here’s the book you wanted to borrow.” He shrugged, hamming it up for Kira’s sake since she was the only one in the room who didn’t know that he was in-the-know about the supernatural. “Didn’t think it was something you were interested in, but I have a bunch more mythology books if you want.” He turned to Kira. “My undergrad major was in mythology. Still have quite the collection and a habit of trolling used book stores.” He shrugged. He turned back to Scott. “Just be careful not to lose that, please. I think it’s kind of rare.” He met Scott’s gaze to try and impress upon him that it was really, really rare. Like, had to kill a rogue witch in Scranton for it, rare.

“Thanks, dude,” Scott flashed him a smile as he set the book carefully aside on the coffee table. “I’ll be careful. Promise.” He turned back to Stiles with a wide smile. “Now, about your party.”

“Nope.” 

“Aww,” Kira pouted at him. “Scott’s been talking about you for ages. Everyone just wants a chance to meet you.”

Stiles sighed. “Yeah, I get that.” He ran a hand over his face. “I just hate awkward parties where I don’t know half the people and yet I’m also supposed to be the center of attention. Like birthday parties with relatives that you’ve met, like, once in your life. Nope. Pass.”

Kira perked up. “What if we just get together somewhere else? Like we can go to Erica’s restaurant? Or maybe the ice skating rink? Or the club?”

“Oh, yes.” Stiles perked up at that word. “I need to be introduced to the Beacon Hills club scene. It’s been ages since I was dancing.”

Scott looked hesitant. “Are you sure?” He looked between Stiles and Kira, obviously trying to choose his words carefully. “A club wouldn’t be an issue? With all the people and stuff?”

Stiles waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, as long as there is music and alcohol I will be fine.”

“Stiles,” Noah admonished.

“Hey, I’ve been legal for years,” Stiles pointed out. “I’m 24 now. I can drink if I want to.”

Noah shook his head and leaned back on the couch. “Just keep it in moderation, please,” he said with a sigh. “And call me if you need a ride.”

********************

Stiles marched straight for the bar as soon as he stepped into the club. He spotted the knot of Scott’s pack over in one corner, but let his eyes flick over them without stopping. He crossed the room like a man on a mission. “Three shots and a beer, please,” he told the half naked guy tending bar. “Vodka, rum, don’t care which.” He slapped a couple bills down on the bar.

The bartender looked him up and down. “Sure thing,” the guy said with a wink. He picked up the money and started lining up shot glasses.

“Stiles!” Scott popped up beside Stiles with a grin. “We’ve got a booth over there.” Scott nodded over his shoulder, his voice loud to be heard over the bass of the dance floor across the room. 

Stiles held up a finger, signaling his friend to pause as the bartender poured. Stiles barely waited for the man to be done before he was shooting back one shot after another. He accepted the beer with a wink and turned back towards Scott. “Okay,” he said as the pleasant buzz of alcohol started to fuzz the edges of his perception. “Now I can do this.”

Scott shot him a worried look, but didn’t comment. Instead he grabbed Stiles by the elbow of the arm not holding a beer and dragged him across the room to the booth full of supernatural creatures that weren’t even being the least bit subtle about watching him. “Everyone,” Scott announced once they came to a stop next to the booth. “This is Stiles. Stiles, these are my friends.” Scott started pointing people out as he named them. “Lydia, Jackson. Kira you’ve met. Those are Isaac and Cora at the far side of the both. And Erica and Boyd over here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Stiles said with a little wave. He set his beer down on the table. He felt several of the others eyeing him and couldn’t help being pleased. He may not have been to a club in awhile, but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember how to dress appropriately. He was in a tight tank top with a loose long sleeve button up over it. The shirt was almost opaque enough to see through, but dark enough to hide the tattoos on Stiles’s arms. To counter that, he had on his tightest pair of jeans. His hair was just the right type of messed up and he’d thrown on a little bit of eye shadow and liner in a style that he knew accentuated his eyes. Bambi-like, he’d heard some guys say. 

He grinned at the others. “Now, who is up for some dancing?” Stiles looked around the table. Until his eyes settled on Erica with her corset top and dark shadowed eyes. “Erica? You game?”

Erica grinned at him in a way that was a bit more wolf than human. She looked him up and down. “Don’t know if you can handle what I bring to the party,” she said in a sultry voice. She leaned back slightly into Boyd behind her. “Besides, I don’t like to dance without my mate.” 

Stiles shrugged. “He can come to,” he said with a wink.

He watched as Erica grinned up at Boyd. The other man just shrugged before following Erica out of the booth. Stiles cheered, throwing up his hands. He let Erica grab his hand and tug him and Boyd into a mass of dancing bodies. She shoved and pulled them around until Stiles was at her front and Boyd at her back. Stiles grinned at both of them as he started hopping and bobbing to the beat. He made sure to keep his hands well above the waist and touch both of them equally. He could tell the difference between when people wanted to have innocent dancing fun and flirting attention and when they were actually interested in him. 

Boyd tapped out after one song, but Erica stayed, though she was replaced by Kira taking up the center position. At some point he caught glimpses of Lydia and Jackson nearby, then later Cora and Isaac. Stiles lost himself to the beat for a little bit, not caring who he danced with whether they were guys or girls. Eventually he found himself pressed back into a toned chest with tanned arms hugging him close. And this guy was definitely interested judging by what Stiles felt poking into his lower back. 

He leaned his head back to catch the lips of the guy and was pleased when they returned the kiss. The guy’s hands tightened on Stiles’s hips. He hummed his approval before surging forward to bite and suck at Stiles’s lips. Stiles did not resist when the man steered them away from the center of the dance floor. Over the course of another song they made their way back towards the darker areas of the club. Stiles found himself pressed into a dark corner. He lost himself in making out with a hot stranger for awhile, but eventually he had to remember that he was here to hang out with Scott’s pack, not to get laid. 

Stiles drew back to catch his breath and looked up at the gorgeous tanned guy he’d been making out with. It was almost a shame to let this one go without at least a little fun. “Another night,” he said reluctantly. “I’ve got to get back to my friends.”

The guy sighed but nodded. He pressed a kiss on Stiles’s check before drawing away. “I’m Danny,” he said in a soft voice. 

“I hope to see you again soon, Danny,” Stiles said, looking up through his lashes. He blew a kiss over his shoulder as he made his way back to the booth. 

Stiles smiled when he saw that his beer was still there. He tossed it back in one long go, his throat working as he swallowed. “Ah,” he set the bottle back down with a thunk. He looked around the table at the amused faces. “Lydia and Jackson leave already?” 

“Nah,” Erica leaned into his space to point to one side of the dance floor. “Lydia will be at it for a while yet.” She waved her hand back to the others at the table. “Scott and Boyd are usually the first to tap out.”

“I have to work most mornings,” Scott pointed out with a pout. He turned to look at Stiles with a raised eyebrow. “You looked like you were having fun.”

Stiles grinned back, not the least bit repentant. “Yes, I was,” he said with a laugh. “And yet I came back over here to hang out with you, so don’t give me that look.”

“He has a point,” Kira pointed out as she draped herself over Scott’s shoulder. “Don’t be jealous cause Stiles is more fun than you.” Kira shot Stiles a wink where Scott couldn’t see it. As expected Scott squawked in outrage, but it seemed to have Kira’s desired result of getting Scott out onto the dance floor.

“Sucker,” Stiles said with a laugh. He shared a grin with the others at the table and surprisingly, didn’t feel that odd sitting there without Scott or a crowd of dancing bodies as a social buffer. Maybe he actually could get used to socializing and making friends with the packs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not one, but two new chapters tonight! Hope you all enjoy!

Stiles hesitated as he looked up at the plain brick building that held Tomes and Trinkets, the local Bookstore and Occult shop. There were two entrances, one for each half of the business. Stiles considered the doors for a long minute. He could go in the bookstore, browse for a bit, and then go home. Or, he could go into the occult side and put all the knowledge and training he’d gotten over the last few years to good use. His anxiety was telling him to go for the bookstore, but a voice in his head that sounded a lot like his father told him to suck it up and go through the other door. With great power comes great responsibility and all that jazz.

A little bell over the door chimed as he opened the door to the occult shop. He felt the shop's wards flow over his skin like a caress. Stiles lingered in the doorway as he took in the feel of the wards. They were well made, not as strong as what he could put in place, but good enough to hold out most threats. They would let most supernatural creatures pass, but kept out anyone, human or supernatural, who held ill will towards the shop or anyone within. Stiles brushed his fingers against the wood of the doorframe and added a subtle burst of strength to the wards. 

“Be there in one minute,” a voice called from somewhere deeper in the shop. Stiles spotted an open doorway to the right that lead into the bookstore. To his left were neatly arranged bookshelves and glass cases. He took a few steps forward towards the counter and spotted another doorway at the rear of the shop, this one covered with a curtain made of strings of wooden beads. Stiles wandered closer. He reached out a hand to touch one of the beads, but startled backwards when someone pushed them aside.

“Oh! Hello,” greeted the short woman that stepped through. The woman was older than him, but had a youthfulness that made it hard to determine if she were closer to his age or his dad’s. Her brown hair was tied up in a messy bun. She only came up to Stiles’s shoulders, but she had an aura of personality that seemed to make her much taller. Her smile was warm and genuine. Stiles felt himself smiling back.

“Are these rowan beads?” he asked, trailing his fingers along the wooden beads of the curtain.

The woman’s smile went sharp and wicked. “They are,” she replied. She pointed a finger down at a dark line inlaid into the floor. “Mountain ash.” 

Stiles rested his hand on the door frame. He felt the ash in the walls and the floor. There was another set of wards here, which turned the back of the shop into essentially a panic room. Once activated, no one except the shop owner and people she marked would be able to pass. For some reason, that made him like the shop a little more. He could feel safe working here with something like that nearby. He turned to the shop owner.

“I’m Stiles,” he said, holding out his hand. For a moment the woman just blinked at him, though she didn’t hesitate to shake his hand. “Noah Stilinski’s son,” he continued. “I think Scott McCall mentioned I might be stopping by?”

Recognition finally dawned for the woman. “Oh!” She smiled brightly at him. “He did mention you, but he never mentioned your name.” Stiles resisted the urge to facepalm at that. “I’m Rebecca,” the woman continued. She waved him over to a small seating area near the counter. Once they were settled she spoke again. “Scott said that you might be interested in working in the shop.” 

Stiles ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Yeah,” he answered carefully. “I’m okay with working either side.” He waved a hand towards the bookshop half of the building and shrugged. “I like books and magic equally.” Rebecca smiled at that. “I mean, I don’t have the greatest resume,” he said awkwardly. He gave Rebecca a hopeful smile. “But I do have retail experience. And I come with great references! Can’t beat a Sheriff and a True Alpha!”

Rebecca chuckled. “Those are excellent references,” she admitted. “Did you train under Alan Deaton?” 

“Um... At first, I did.” Stiles bit his lip. He looked over at Rebecca and tried to decide how much of his past to tell her. In the end, though, if he really did start to work with her, she’d probably find out anyways. The magical community was pretty small… and full of gossips. “Deaton could only really take me so far. I mostly studied under a Shaman in Boston… Meredith Baxter.”

Rebecca’s eyes softened with sadness. “I knew Meredith,” she said softly. “She was a wonderful woman. I remember her telling me about the last apprentice she’d taken on.” Rebecca gave him a small smile. “She was very proud of you. It was so tragic when she was killed and…” Rebecca gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth as if to stop the words from escaping her lips. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at Stiles. “Oh. OH.” She started to reach out towards Stiles and then stopped, pulling her hand back. “You’re that apprentice, aren’t you?” 

Stiles barely managed to hold back his flinch. He forced himself to nod and confirm whatever she knew about his past. He tensed when Rebecca reached forward, but she only laid her hand on his. Stiles relaxed back into the plush chair.

“I don’t know if you remember her, but another friend of mine, Dr. Abigail Reed, was one of the therapists who treated you… after. She and Deaton mentioned your progress from time to time. Not your name, of course,” Rebecca was quick to reassure him when he tensed. “That’s still a secret to most of the magical and supernatural community. She just mentioned your case and your connection to Meredith.”

It took Stiles a minute to picture Dr. Reed in his head. He vaguely remembered a tall redheaded woman who had been among the most consistent doctors in and out of his room. He really hadn’t been in a good place at the time, though. He’d been prone to frequent flashbacks and often unable to tell if he was in the treatment center or if he was still with the Hunters that’d taken him or if he was just flat out hallucinating. A lot of what happened after Meredith was killed… after the Hunters took him… just after… was a blur. Stiles shook his head to clear away the memories before he could think about them too closely.

Rebecca seemed to sense his hesitation. “I also heard a lot about the work you’ve been doing lately. I think we have a few of the same contacts, Braeden among others.” She gave him a serious look, but it was approving. “You’ve done some very good work. Helped a lot of people.”

Stiles blushed. He shook his head, trying to negate Rebecca’s praise. He did the jobs he was paid to do. He tried to help as many people as he could along the way, but he wasn’t a hero. He opened his mouth to reply. Nothing came out. Stiles shook his head again.

“And the local packs know you’re here?” Rebecca asked, providing a much welcomed change of topic. Or, it would be if Stiles wanted to change to that topic. 

Stiles swallowed nervously. “Well, you know Scott does,” he pointed out. “And Talia knows about me as well.” Which wasn’t technically a lie. She knew of his general existence. “But I haven’t really had a chance to meet most of the rest of either pack. And not many of them know about the whole…” Stiles waved a hand in the air. “Magic thing. Well, actually… None of them do.” He shrugged. “I’ve kind of been trying to keep it under the radar. I guess you could say I’m semi-retired for awhile.” Stiles swallowed nervously. “And Scott’s promised that he’s going to keep me out of things.” 

“So, you haven’t been helping with our latest mystery killings?” Rebecca asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Strictly a consultant,” he said firmly. 

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “This seems like the sort of thing that would be right up your alley.” 

Stiles leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He scrubbed his face with his hands before looking back at Rebecca. "It's not that I don't want to help," he explained. "I just want to stay under the radar. I don't want to cause problems for my dad or Scott. Don't want to draw the wrong kind of attention if I can help it." He shrugged and gave Rebecca a small smile. "Hence the normal job thing."

Thankfully, Rebecca smiled back and nodded. "I suppose I can understand wanting to settle down for awhile," she said. "And I would be a fool not to hire someone of your talents if you want to work here. I am struggling to keep up with orders as is and they just keep increasing."

Stiles held out a hand. "I look forward to working with you."

********************

_Stiles shivered as a draft moved through the warehouse. He curled himself a little tighter, hugging his knees to his chest, but it felt like the metal walls were leeching all of his heat. He couldn't remember the last time he’d been warm. _

_Off in the distance he heard a door open and close, but no one came for him. There was silence again, broken only by the sound of a faucet dripping. He really wished he could reach the faucet. He was desperate for even a drop of water. It was dark in the room. He couldn’t tell what time of day it was anymore. Couldn’t tell if the Hunters were due to bring him food soon, or if the time had passed and they’d just hadn’t bothered to feed him again. The dripping made his thirst worse. He swallowed, but his throat was dry. Stiles gagged at the feel of the collar around his throat._

_Stiles closed his eyes and tried to will the gagging to stop. He slumped over on the floor, panting as he tried to recover his breath. Once the shaking stopped, Stiles pushed himself up on his hands and knees. He crawled forward as much as the manacles on his wrists would allow, but couldn’t find the source of the dripping. There was nothing around him._

_The door on the far side of the room opened and Stiles skittered backwards until his back hit the wall. Footsteps approached. Hands reached for him, unlocking the manacles. Stiles whimpered. He tried to push back into the wall, but hands pulled him forward. He resisted. “Stop that. Get up,” a voice commanded. His body relaxed, rising to his feet without his consent. _

_“Follow me,” the voice ordered. Stiles struggled against the collar’s control, but his body moved on its own. He screamed, but no sound escaped his lips. _

_They moved through empty halls that twisted in front of his eyes. Suddenly, he was in front of his dad's house in Beacon Hills. The cruiser was in the driveway. There were lights on inside. He and the Hunter moved forward until they were standing in front of the living room window. No one inside seemed to notice him. His dad, Scott, Melissa, Lydia, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Kira, and Jackson were all there in his father’s living room. They were talking and laughing. He screamed at them to run, but no one heard him. _

_“Burn them,” the Hunter ordered. Stiles screamed as his magic responded. The front porch caught on fire, yet no one in the house noticed. Flames spread inside. The couches burst into flame. Fire raced up the stairs and the house was engulfed. He could hear the screaming. He always heard the screaming. He screamed with them._

Stiles jolted awake. He pushed himself back away from whoever had touched him. His hand went under his pillow, latching onto his knife and putting it in between him and the threat. His heart raced and his chest was tight from lack of air. 

“Stiles,” his dad said softly. Stiles’s eyes focused on him. His dad was on the other side of the bed, his hands raised. “It’s okay, son,” his dad said soothingly. “It’s over. You’re home.” Noah inched closer. “Why don’t you put the knife down?”

Stiles looked between his father and then the knife. His free hand came up to feel at his neck. There was only smooth skin there. Slowly he lowered both hands. He carefully leaned forward and set the knife down on the bedside table. A moment later Noah had him wrapped in a hug. Stiles didn’t realize he’d been shaking until his father’s hands were soothing up and down his back. Stiles took a long, shuddering breath. He leaned his forehead on his father’s shoulder. He pulled back when he didn’t meet soft cloth like he expected. A ball of light sprung into being above their heads. His dad was in his uniform. 

“Did you just get home?” he croaked.

Noah pulled back with a grimace. “No,” he said. “I have to go back in. I was just checking on you before I left.”

Stiles leaned back against the headboard with a grimace. “Did they find another body?”

Noah nodded. He straightened up. “Are you going to be okay here? Do you want me to call Scott?”

Stiles shook his head. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was the warehouse and fire. He swallowed and felt the phantom weight of the collar on his neck. His eyes sprang back open. Stiles reached out a hand and stopped his dad before he could rise off the bed. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed and I’ll come with you,” he said. His father opened his mouth to protest, but Stiles barreled over it. “I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep for awhile anyways,” he pointed out. “Scott asked me to come back to help you with these murders, so I might as well get started.”

His father let out a long breath, but nodded. “Might as well,” he agreed as he pushed up off the bed. “The Hales are the ones that called it in, so they should be gone by the time we get there. Just hang back a bit and I’ll check that the coast is clear.”

“I’ll mask my scent,” Stiles promised. He tossed off the covers and climbed out of bed. He reached for his duffel bag automatically before remembering that he’d actually unpacked his clothes. Stiles altered course mid-step and headed for his dresser instead. He heard his father make his way downstairs as he was pulling on a clean pair of jeans. He turned and rooted around in his closet for a clean shirt and a hoodie.

Minutes later he was downstairs with his bag slung over his shoulder. His father walked out of his office adjusting his holster while Stiles was getting his shoes on. Stiles patted down his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and keys. He pulled back his sleeves to reveal the Runes tattooed on his arms. Stiles ran a finger up one arm and then the other, activating the series of Runes that would mask his scent and smell as well as making him slip past unnoticed. He concentrated on excluding his father from the notice-me-not spell and felt the magic shift.

Noah shook his head as his eyes focused back on Stiles. "I am never going to get used to that," he said as he herded Stiles out the door and locked it behind them. 

Stiles smiled as he settled into the passenger seat in the cruiser. "Have to admit it's pretty handy, right?" He set his messenger bag in his lap and shifted through the contents. He wouldn't know what he would need until he saw the bodies, but it made him feel better to check that everything was in place. He could tell his anxiety was spiking at the prospect of meeting one of the Hales. He shouldn't be recognized, or even noticed, but he couldn't help thinking about if the spells failed or any number of other possible problems. 

Flashes of lights alerted Stiles that they had reached the crime scene. Noah parked the cruiser a little ways away from the other cars. “It looks like the coroner hasn’t gotten here yet," Noah said. He let out a sigh and turned to look at Stiles. “You’re going to have to wait here until the body is gone and the evidence is done being collected.” He waved his hand at Stiles. "Even with your spells there will be too many people to avoid bumping into."

“Bring your kid to work day?” Stiles suggested only half-jokingly. Noah just gave him a flat look, so Stiles shrugged. “I got it, pops.” Stiles slipped out of the passenger seat and into back. He tucked his keys and wallet into his bag, which then went under the seat. Stiles crawled into the back seat and closed the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks. He tossed his hoodie on top of the pile on the floor.

“Son, I don’t think that’s a good…”

“It’s a great idea,” Stiles interrupted as he shucked his pants and underwear. He started to change even as he lifted his shirt above his head. By the time the shirt fell away, he had fully transformed. He hopped up onto the seat and fluffed his brown feathers. He turned his head to look at his father and then pointedly turned to look at the door. Didn’t exactly have thumbs in his owl form. Though, he supposed he could have just magicked the door open. 

His father was already standing though, grumbling under his breath the whole time. Noah looked around before opening the back door and ushering Stiles through. Stiles gave a couple hops before launching himself out of the door and up into the air. “See you at the crime scene,” Noah called softly. 

It didn’t take much for his owl eyes to catch the flickers of motion as deputies moved about in the woods. There was a brighter area not far away. He flew towards it to find a small clearing that had been lit up by portable flood lights. Stiles landed in a high tree branch overlooking the crime scene. His enhanced eyes made it easy to pick out small details even from this height.

The victims this time were two men. They were still clothed, though he couldn’t really make out much of their shirts from under all of the blood. They had holes in their chests. He was willing to bet that their hearts were missing, just like the last two victims. The killer was definitely evolving. His kills were not only getting more violent, but he’d gone from children to adults. Stiles would have to check his father’s timeline. He wondered if the time between kills was becoming less or if there was some kind of pattern. 

A flurry of movement at the edge of the clearing signaled the arrival of the coroner. Stiles hopped to a slightly lower branch so he could get a better angle to watch the coroner work. This form made it easy to stay almost perfectly still as he focused on the movement below. He was able to mentally catalog each piece of evidence that was gathered. And the coroner was the type to take verbal notes, which was quite convenient for him. He fluffed his feathers in pleasure.

It was only because he was paying such close attention that he noticed the movement at the edge of the clearing. There was a figure hidden in the shadows. Stiles let out a loud hoot and the deputies below jumped. His father looked up at him, his expression thoughtful. Noah rested a hand on his weapon as he looked around the clearing. The figure in the shadows slunk backwards with a supernatural grace. The girl, and that’s what the figure turned out to be once Stiles got a better look, was familiar. 

He launched himself into the air on silent wings. He followed the girl as she moved silently through the woods. As soon as she was far enough away from the crime scene her features became distinctly furry and she dropped down on all fours. That was the last piece of information Stiles needed to place the girl. Cora Hale, Isaac's soulmate. Stiles followed her for a little while just to make sure that whatever had killed the two men didn’t take the opportunity for a werewolf snack, but the creature didn’t make an appearance. He turned back as soon as the Hale house was within howling distance. Cora would be fine from there.

The coroner was packing up when Stiles made it back to the clearing, which was disappointing. He’d have to wait until his father got the coroner’s notes now. He let out an owl's version of a huff before doing a slow circuit of the clearing to check to make sure there wasn’t anyone else lurking around. Only when he was sure it was clear did he land on the ground. 

It was only a matter of concentration to shift from one form to another. The owl didn’t have a sense of smell, but his fox form most certainly did. His tail twitched behind him as he started sniffing around the outskirts of the clearing. He kept out of sight and used the underbrush for cover as he sniffed around for any scents that might be suspicious. Unfortunately he didn’t really know what the Hales smelled like. There were a lot of people scents. He followed some of them, but they either led further into the crime scene, where there were still too many deputies, or back towards where he now knew the Hale house was. Still, he made a full circuit of the clearing just in case there was something off. 

He had to pause a couple times when some of the people working the scene left or moved too close to where he was, but eventually he was able to finish his circuit. By then, his father was one of the few ones lingering in the clearing. Stiles waited until the last two deputies were engaged in conversation and facing away from him to dart forward. Noah opened his mouth, but, after a glance at the deputies, just shook his head and pointed emphatically towards the woods. 

Stiles just flicked his tail at his father. He kept one eye on the deputies as he scampered over to the two very pungent pools of blood. It took him a moment to push the smell of blood to the back and catch other scents. Unfortunately he didn’t catch anything supernatural. He thought he might have smelled a lingering trace of magic, but when he tried to follow it he lost it. He wondered for a moment if he might have been catching his own scent or the wards he’d put on his father’s equipment. All too soon the deputies started to turn and Stiles had to scamper back for cover. He let out a frustrated huff as he walked back to the cruiser to wait for his father. 

He curled up under the cruiser with his tail tucked in close. His spells felt like they were holding but he'd never really tested them with the addition of shapeshifting. Technically he didn't even have tattoos in this form, just some darker patches of fur. 

By the time his father finished up, Stiles had fallen into a light doze. His ears perked up when he heard footsteps approach. He poked his head out and gave a soft bark at his father. Noah laughed as he opened the back door of the cruiser. "Okay, kiddo," Noah said. "Get changed then we can head out." 

Stiles scrambled into the back seat. He had already started to shift by the time his father had closed the door. He saw his father leaning against the door with his back to Stiles and had to smile. Stiles pulled his shirt on, comfortable in the knowledge that his father was keeping watch. Once he was dressed and had his bag out from under the seat, he knocked on the glass. 

As he climbed out, Stiles glanced back at the clearing. The whole area had been marked off with crime scene tape, but the deputies were starting to pack up their lights and gear. Like him, they'd gotten all that they could from the scene.

"What do you think?" Noah asked as they started down the road.

Stiles looked out at the trees as he gathered his thoughts. "I think I caught some traces of magic, though whether it was a magic user or a supernatural creature with magic I don't know." He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "I suppose I can check through my books. Like all of them just in case I missed something. Rebecca might have some at the shop I don't have, so I guess I can check there too." He shrugged and then looked over at his father. "I don't suppose the coroner or the techs found anything?"

Noah frowned and shook his head. "Nothing conclusive. No shoe prints or animal prints. Whoever or whatever this is knows how to cover their tracks." Noah reached over to pat Stiles on the shoulder. "I'm going to drop you off at the house and then I have to head into the station to check on things. I'll reach out to the packs and let you know if the Hales found anything."

"Oh!" Stiles sat up straight I. His seat as a thought occurred to him. "Cora Hale was watching the crime scene when we got there. That's why I hooted." He waved a hand towards his father. "You and the deputies looking around scared her off, so they're probably going to want an update from you as well."

He passed the rest of the ride talking through what he had seen and smelled, but it didn't really feel like he added much beyond what the deputies had gathered. Maybe if he'd been first on scene he could have done better but by the time they got there the scents had been too muddied. His dad seemed grateful for the observations and bounced some ideas off him, but at the end of the ride Stiles was left in the driveway while his father went back to work. As he unlocked the door and slipped inside, he couldn't help feeling useless. It wasn't a feeling he was used to. Stiles wasn't sure if it was one he wanted to feel again.


End file.
